


A series of not-so-misfortunate ships

by QueenEchidna



Series: Believe it or not Mercenaries have Feelings Too [5]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Bromance, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, assorted ficlettes, cooked crab, helmet party, mute!Pyro, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenEchidna/pseuds/QueenEchidna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I'd like to endeavor the task of writing a handful of ficletes ((I believe that is the proper term to use)) Of particular ships or mini-plot themes I find most appealing at any given time. This will probably update occasionally, each chapter being a different short-story. Please enjoy your read and if you have any ideas for me, feel free to speak up. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pyro/Spy-Cuddles

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to indulge in one of my favorite TF2 ships Cooked Crab ((French Toast? I don't know I have seen both)) So Spy/Pyro cuddles lay ahead. :)

His legs ached and his back fucking hurt and he could have sworn that there was still a butterfly knife embedded in his spine from when his BLU counterpart had miraculously gotten behind him, which of course led to a long, begrudging trip through Respawn. The curses he wanted to push out in his distressed manner lingered on his lips and around his smoking cigarette, refusing to break his respectable visage with the snarl of a swear. Before he could even sigh away his momentary aggravation, a strong hand clapped him on the back and quite nearly knocked the breath out of him. 

“Ey laddie, why don’t ja relax fer’ a minute and throw back a cold one?” 

Demoman, Spy inwardly groaned whilst he brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose to pinch the area exasperatedly; the Scott never failed in the immense task of making every corner of the saboteur’s head throb painfully. He immediately moved his gloved hand out to reject the offering, in the form of a mysteriously marked bottle with even more questionable contents. 

He wanted nothing more than to retire to his own quarters, get at least some of the grime off of his being before he downed a handful of painkillers and went to sleep; like every other night, the single thing Spy allowed himself to fall into a routine because of. He was almost to his door when a friendly hand settled on his shoulder, firm but gentle, and turned him back around to face the team’s resident genius; a big grin adorning his pale features and intelligent grey eyes sought out assurance the Frenchamn was paying attention. 

“Spah’ glad I found ya’. See I was wonderin’ if I could trouble you to show me how your _Invisa-watch-doohickey_ works, cos I’d like to try to use a similar technology to protect ma’ Sentries.”

The rest of his jabbering faded into nothingness as Spy sighed hard and began to accept his fate with nothing more than a furrowed brow and a distressed puff of smoke. Then -perhaps out of sheer-luck, or because he was an absolute god-send- Pyro tapped on the Engineer’s shoulder and snatched his attention away from Spy. A few short signs got a just-as-short message across to the Texan and he shifted his hardhat away from his eyes.

“Well shoot, I’m not sure, I’ll go check on that for ya’. Okay lil’ buddy? ” Engie’s smile was warm and compassionate as he patted the younger mercenary on the head. “Why don’t ja’ come with me? I could sure use the company.” 

Pyro nodded happily and headed down the hallway with the slightly shorter man at his side; though Spy saw him turn for the slightest moment to give the saboteur a thumbs-up before disappearing around the corner. A grateful smile played at the corners of the stoic man’s mouth when he turned and fell into the comfort of his own personal quarters. In the span of about 10 minutes he already had tossed his dirtied red blazer aside and made himself feel the slightest bit fresher, though his back still ached and creaked whenever he moved. For perhaps the first time since he began his current occupation, he could not find the willpower to sit up and read his book; the time quite normally spent reading was eagerly replaced with a time of rest as Spy laid down on his, frankly quite uncomfortable bed, and flicked off his lamp.

“ _Merde…_ ”

Spy pushed himself up to rest on his elbows about an hour later; he could not sleep and it was bothering him immensely. The pain in his back had not subsided and he implored himself to visit Medic the next time this happens, though somewhere in his clustered mind he knew that his back pain must not have been what was keeping him from his well-deserved rest. A determined, albeit exhausted, scowl crossed the Spy’s face and he lay back down, so sure that if he just tried hard enough then he could sleep. No such determination got him anywhere within that following hour.

A creak alerted Spy to a presence outside his door, he did not move, figuring it was Medic pacing the halls as he normally did that time of night; but there were no resounding footsteps, and a shadow was visible under the crack of the door. And when the sound of a locking mechanism unlocking clattered through the silent room Spy breathed out heavily, he knew who it was, though he did not know whether to welcome the presence or be annoyed by it.

Pyro poked his head into the room, trying to be quiet, and he knew right away that Spy was still not asleep and it troubled him as much as it did the saboteur himself. He turned and gingerly closed, and re-locked, the door behind him before silently maneuvering through the room and over to Spy’s bed. 

“Did you need something Firebug?” 

Spy asked shortly, his voice curt and harsh when it broke the silent air. Pyro signed something, something about _”dealing with fits of insomnia”_ blah blah blah _”you should relax more”_. Mostly just a lot of things Spy did not want to try and interpret in his exhaustion; he instead turned his back to the openness of the room and scooted closer to the wall. Without any prerequisite to the act, a pair of rubber-donned arms encompassed his midsection and after a few moments of shifting he was pulled against a, comparatively, warm body and Pyro had his head nestled against the Frenchman’s back.

“Pyro, I-“ 

Spy was cut-off when his Firebug squeezed his midsection tighter, nuzzling against the soft linen of his night-clothes; an unspoken order to shut up and try to fall asleep again. One tired, but lighthearted sigh later, Spy relaxed into his blankets and let the warmth of Pyro’s body mask the immediate ache of his back; a smile covered his lips as he shut his eyes and was very quickly able to feel the first effects of sleep. Then before sleep could claim him, and before Pyro could react, Spy turned his torso just so, and reached out to pull the other’s gas-mask up his face just enough to reveal the Pyro’s chin and thin, partially-burned lips; a set of lips which he claimed in a quick kiss, one perhaps a level above chaste, but nothing more than any other show of affection Spy gives Pyro when they have just a moment alone. 

He held them there for a couple moments, not pushing forward at all, merely enjoying the secure feeling of another wrapped around him; those scarred lips never failed to chafe against Spy’s own, but they did so in such a way that only made him love his little Firebug even more, only made him kiss him longer. After what may have very-well been an eternity, Spy returned Pyro’s mask into its proper position on his face before turning back and shutting his eyes again. He felt the Firebug shift a bit but they both ultimately found a comfortable arrangement and slowly drifted into the somber embrace of sleep.

Spy would probably never admit to anyone how secure the simple gesture made him feel, not even to Pyro, who would just role his eyes at the Frenchman’s stubbornness in every manner of the word. He did not have any more back pain that week, and he found his bed to be just the slightest bit more comfortable.


	2. Helmet Party - A Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He growls quietly into the silence of the washroom as he turns his back to the sink and the mirror, angered at himself for being so weak, so pathetic, so ridiculously head-over-heels._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This began as something angsty, that is until my mood bettered and it took a complete 180 into some heavy fluff. I do hope you enjoy the read. :)

Foolish may have been the correct word. Naïve, perhaps. Foolhardy. Childish. Any number of words, Soldier found out soon enough, could describe the awkward thump of his chest and the heat in his face; the term _embarrassing_ came to mind more than once, but was overridden quickly by a stronger, more fulfilling word that the American dare not speak aloud. 

Though that word, that tantalizing word so graciously accurate to every emotion that runs through his war-hardened heart, rests on his lips whenever he is around the one of the few things, perhaps the only thing, which makes the endless days working for BLU worthwhile. This single thing, the most precious piece of memorabilia Soldier could ever hope to keep when they leave this place, stops his heart but quickens his pace all at the same time. Despite his rocky disposition, Soldier cannot contain a chuckle when they tell a passing joke, a slap on the back as he runs by just as they step back to admire a well-built masterpiece of machinery and war, a smile that turns the American’s thin lips upward into a heartfelt smirk despite how laboriously he tried to keep it away. 

Soldier wonders vaguely if Engineer could even begin to contemplate how much he loves him.

Again the word _childish_ sits on the general’s tongue as he stares himself down in the bathroom mirror, trying to force another word past his lips; when he cannot even practice to the mirror he knocks on the plain porcelain surface with his fist, not quite strong enough to crack it. He growls quietly into the silence of the washroom as he turns his back to the sink and the mirror, angered at himself for being so weak, so pathetic, so _ridiculously head-over-heels_.

 _It’s just three words…_ Soldier assures himself time and time again, freeing his head from the weight of his heavy Kevlar for a moment to run a shaky hand through his thin blonde hair. The feeling makes him smile; Engineer’s hair used to be of a similar consistency, back when they first met. Both of them had made numerous jokes about having the same hair, but also how both of them wore helmets, which to this day continues to be ironically humorous in a few ways; though every time the fleeting topic is passed in conversation with the mechanic, Soldier feels nothing more than the need to pull his oversized Kevlar down his face further.

The general would never admit it, not even to his own dying mother, that just the thought of being compared to Engie, in any way, makes him immensely uncomfortable; not because he dislikes the mechanic, certainly not that! But Soldier holds such great respect for the man, sets him up on a theoretical pedestal so high that even Soldier, the man who will ridicule a child for carrying a stuffed animal around like it was real, feels less than second-best when around Engineer. And the Texan’s pleasant, caretaking disposition does not help whatsoever; constantly praising, uplifting everyone on the team into high-spirits even in the lowest times. 

Soldier smirks, fondly reminiscent of a time a week ago when he had been on one of his ‘screaming-sprees’ and recalling just how easily Engie calmed him down, cajoled him into serenity, _kissed_ his lips to silent him long enough to get a word-in edgewise. What really tied Soldier’s tongue at the time were the few words that the mechanic muttered to him quietly, three words meant only for Soldier’s ears, three words that silenced him, and have kept him silenced the entire week;

_”I love you.”_

Coming from a child those words sound innocent, spoken to a family member they are nothing more than a praising goodbye or goodnight, spoken to a dear friend whom you would trust with anything those words are an assurance of a deep-platonic-connection. But as Engineer spoke them quietly to Soldier, the world seemed to float out of existence for a moment; to Soldier those few words were not innocent, nor were they praising, nor were they any specific kind of assurance. 

_’I love you.’_ No, those words were a promise, a promise Soldier was not quite able to comprehend, a promise that scared his naïve nature into nodding hastily and running-off and leaving Engineer in his wake, just as confused. 

So again, Soldier leans back against the counter with a hand on his face, exasperated. And again he wonders if Engineer knows how much he loves him, he also wonders how much self-reinforcement it will take before he can pull his sorry-ass out of the cave he hides in, to stop being scared and allow himself to be with the one thing- no, the one _person_ who makes his everything worthwhile. The last thing he wants to do is to make the Engineer believe he does not care for him, because that could not be further from the truth; running off had been the gut-reaction of a man who had never understood what those three words meant, never felt or experienced them for himself…until now.

Before his mind can catch up- Soldier’s legs carry him out of the washroom and down two flights of stairs, through winding hallways, and past a few teammates, who look on befuddled. It is only after his fist knocks on the metal door of the mechanic’s workshop that his mind reels back into his head and all his confidence flies out of him as the door is opened. Engineer stands smiling in the doorway, biding his fellow countryman greetings as he wipes the axel grease off his hands. 

That awkward thump in his chest, and the heat in his face returns with a vengeance at the heavily-accented voice, and even further when accompanied by his heartwarming smile; Soldier has to shift his legs just a bit to keep himself from melting on the spot. 

“Soldier?” 

Hearing his name is unexpected and the general realizes he has been staring, and he is suddenly aware that he left his Kevlar in the washroom; it leaves him feeling exposed and even further insecure. Trying to push himself to the point, Soldier puts his arms around the shorter man’s waist as best he can, pulling him closer to him; his smile is warm but hesitant, though not quite as bright as Engie’s. 

“What’cha up to partner?” 

Engineer chuckles quietly, resting his hands on his companion’s shoulders and awaiting an answer; an answer to a question he barely finishes asking before Soldier leans down and kisses him lovingly, his hands pulling the Texan impossibly closer to him. He keeps his eyes shut, holding tight to the Engineer, all the while trying to work up the guts to pull away and spill his heart. When the general does pull away, his face redder than usual, it is a small laugh from the Engineer that reignites his determination.

“Well that was a pleasant surprise.” 

Soldier prefers to imagine the Texan’s smile grew a bit after he kissed him, but perhaps it was merely an overactive imagination forcing false hopes upon his heart.

“I love you Del.” 

Engineer visually recoils a bit out of surprise, his big smile falling away for a moment before it returns with newfound glee; he had been waiting to hear that from the general, albeit quiet and patiently. Engie chuckles again as his companion’s face contorts from confident and loving, to unsure of himself once again; a humorous change and a grand contract to the self-respecting air the Soldier usually gives off every moment of every day. Yet the words float in-and-out of the Texan’s ears a few times before they legitimately click in his brain, and he is able to answer the eagerly awaiting Soldier; he moves forward and kisses him again, this time quick and confident.

“I’m sure you know I love you too, partner-“ Engie stops himself and smiles thoughtfully, rethinking what he said for a fleeting moment. “I love you too, Jane.” 

It was a promise, from both of them to the other, one they intend to keep. Of course the moment is ruined when Scout comes barreling down the hall with Demoman right along after him, both cursing back-and-forth at one-another. Soldier and Engineer share a strange look after the two pass, before Engineer begins to follow the two, ready to break up a conflict that is bound to happen once both Demo and Scout tire themselves of running.

Soldier does not pursue, it is none of his business, but instead he leans against the door of the mechanic’s workshop with a small smile planted on his face; admiring one of Engineer’s many endearing qualities, one which involves being able to mediate between two aggressing parties. A lighthearted chuckle finds its way out into the newfound silence of the hallway and Soldier crosses his arms while those three words sting his lips in all the right ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions for future ficlettes are more than welcome :)


	3. There's nothing either of us can do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout won't admit how fragile he is in the face of death, he doesn't want to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in a bad mood and wanted to take it out on some of my favorite video game characters.

Fuck, just fuck it all a million times sideways with a knife. There’s nothin’ I can do, and there’s nothing anyone else can do; and I swear to god the next person who comes to me, tryin’ their damnest to console me, I’m gonna punch ‘em square in the jaw. And not like one of my weak punches either, I’ll make sure to leave a bruise. - A knock at the door? Well shit, guess this is my chance to try out that right-hook.

Fucking **bam** , right in Snipe’s scrawny chin; his jawbone actually hurt my goddamn hand, fuck! Well he ain’t yelling at me, but _ohh_ he looks pissed. “Scout, oi know your upset,” Well here we go with another round of _”let’s all go talk to Boston about what a great dude his best pal was and make him feel 3 thousand times worse than he already feels”._ The only thing that is keeping me from slamming the door right now is that Spy is behind Sniper suddenly (like when the hell did he get there?) and pulling the Australian fuck away from my door. 

_Now I don’t let anyone push me around, literally or otherwise, but when the damn Spook insists I return to my room, I don’t hesitate in listening; but I am a bit freaked out when he follows me in and shuts the door behind him. “What the fuck ‘re you doin’ man?” Wow, my voice sounds atrocious, I wanna punch _myself_ in the face for that. Since that would be stupid, I now have the overwhelming desire to clock this French bastard between the eyes._

_But….Spy looks even worse than me._

_His red suit is, comparatively, out of shape and wrinkled all over; and even I’m attentive enough to notice how goddamn bloodshot and puffy his eyes look. I almost forgot how important Sparky was to the others too. “There is nothing to shame in being sad Scout,” His voice sounds almost as fucked-up as mine, and not that I’m cool with it, but I let him put a hand on my shoulder; it isn’t harsh or anything and he’s not scolding me, so I guess that’s a good thing. “I,” He takes a deep, and shaky breath; I can feel him shaking through the contact with my shoulder._

_“Hey man,” Fuck, I sound even worse now. “None of my anger is for you bro.” I don’t actually give three shits about the Spook, but at the moment he’s one of the only two people who may even remotely understand how I’m feeling, and probably feels even worse._

_At the moment, it is painfully apparent that he has a little over 4 inches over me, it’s no huge height difference but I end up having to look up to see his eyes, and it makes me feel incredibly short. For such a prestigious snob, Spy sure-as-hell looks like shit. The only looks he’s ever given me are either that look of _’I’d stab you multiple times over in the most painful way possible if we weren’t on the same team .’_ or _’Go fuck yourself you little shit I don’t have time for you today.’_ _

_But he ain’t glaring at me, and he doesn’t even look like he wants to brutally murder me; I’m wonderin’ if this is even our Spy I’m talkin’ to._

_I feel his fingers tighten on my shoulder and as he stammers around, tryin’ ta’ think of his words, I don’t say nothin’. I don’t actually got anything to say. “…’e always wanted me to be kinder to you,” Finally the Spook talks, but he’s about _this fucking close_ to start cryin’ his eyes out, I can tell, I’m good at pickin’ out that kind of stuff. “I’m sorry I did not.” _

_If it’s even possible, Spy’s devastated smile just broke my goddamn heart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this sad- oh god now he’s hugging me. I can feel his entire body quaking in an onslaught of violent, shaking sobs. This dumb shit is gonna make me start bawlin’ if he doesn’t straighten out._

_I gotta hug him back, I can’t leave the poor dude hangin’; not when he’s lost his everything. I hug him back of course, and right about now I can only recall the Spook showing any emotion that wasn’t anger or indifference when he is-…was around Sparky. He didn’t look as snobbish when he smiled, I guess that’s what Sparky saw in him._

_I also realize that Spy will probably not be smiling like that ever again._

_“I’m so sorry man.” Now I’m cryin’ and we’re both standing in my room bawling our frickin’ eyes out like fucking _morons_. Without caution I hold him impossibly closer; like how I held my ma’ when my jerk-off father left, or like that one time Pyro thought Engie was dead and was having major panic-attacks._

_My arms tighten even further, the thought of Sparky subconsciously triggering the reaction in my already tense muscles. Part of me is hating every moment of this sappy bullshit…but most of me doesn’t even want to think about letting the Spook go, because that part of me knows that something- no… _someone_ both me and Spy held dear, is gone forever, and neither of us can do anything about it._

_Spy finally releases me and sneakily wipes his eyes, easily looking more put-together than my supposed tear-stained, red nose, and bloodshot eyed face. His hands don’t leave my shoulders, and I feel and see his muscles twitch involuntarily. He gives me another squeeze and smiles meekly, _fucking meekly_ , down at me. “I know ya’ loved ‘im. Sorry fer’ bein’ a whiney bitch.” _

_Spy’s response is better than I was hoping for, in its own weird sort of way; he leans down just a bit and touches his forehead to mine in an innocent gesture of a familial acquaintanceship. “There is nothing to apologize for. ‘E was your best friend, ‘e never stopped talking about ‘ow much fun ‘e ‘ad ‘anging out with you.” The Spook tells me in almost a whisper, his voice quavering slightly with every couple words._

_Yeah, I’ll fight to the death the fact that Sparky was my best friend, and he meant the world to me; and Spy s’just making me realize that, and I really want to fucking hate him for it…but I just…can’t. I manage to murmur some incoherent response of, “He was my fucking bro man…fuck…” And Spy does nothing but bring me back into another freakin’ hug._

_After forever I can finally regain my composure and get this damn Spook off’a me. “Alright chucklenuts,” I’m glad to see the ghost of a smirk play across his face, it’s no huge accomplishment but it will suffice under these circumstances. I reach out and clasp his hand tightly in my own; bandage against glove. “Yo…Sparky will always be with us.” That sounded a lot less cheesy in ma’ head, fuck._

_Spy smiles and nods, placing his other hand over our clasped hands, “’E sure will, Boston.” The uttering of Pyro’s nick for me accomplishes nothing but making me tear up again, like a bitch. Once again, for perhaps the millionth-fucking-time, Frenchfry hugs me; this time he traps my arms against my own body, so no hugging back I ‘spose._

_I’m more than sure if Sparky saw us he’d start cryin’ or some shit; probably glad me and the damn Spook ain’t rippin’ at each otha’s throats automatically. A lot of thoughts fly through my mind, of what if Pyro were still here, what would I do or say to him; what could I do if he wasn’t dead for good._

_But all this wondering is just gonna make me bawl again, and I’m sick of lookin’ so fuckin’ weak right now, ‘specially in front of the Spook; … though I don’t suppose he cares all too much._

_We’re both quiet for the longest time, and amidst our embracing limbs, I could swear I feel the familiar rub of rubber-suited arms around us both, holding us together._

_But that’s stupid, and beyond ridiculous to think about._

_Because Pyro is dead, and he ain’t commin’ back._


	4. Scout/Engie/Pyro- Don't worry they're just bros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout realizes what a little shit he is...

He growled quietly to himself, just about fed up with Scout’s current tirade; the stomping around and colorful-language were wearing on Engineer’s last nerve. “And another thing- Pyro has been ignoring me all week! He’s like my best-fucking-friend and he keeps running off when I try to hang out!” The runner shouted as he paced back-and-forth in Engie’s workshop, arms flailing about sporadically, trying over-exuberantly to express his anger at the situation.

“He’s been takin’ care of Spah’. You know the Spook had an incident with Respawn, Pyro’s just tryin’ to make sure he’s okay. You have to understand kid, you’re not his top priori-“

“But he’s _my_ friend! I don’t care if they’re fucking, friends come first right!?” Scout coughed a bit before he returned to pacing the workshop, grabbing scrap metal from the mechanic’s desk and fiddling with it. Engineer sighed hard and pinched the bridge of his nose, more than exasperated with the youth. 

“Scout they’re not-…ya’ know what, believe what you want,” He stepped forward a few steps and took the runner by the arm. “You ain’t everyone’s favorite thing! You gotta git’ that through your thick skull.” Scout’s face was contorted to form an expression of pure anger, until he opened his mouth to snap back, and Engie hit his jaw. “Naw, I don’t want to hear it Scout!” Engineer looked more than pissed, and Scout could not find it in him to get angry at the fact he was just punched in the jaw. 

He shrugged the Texan’s hand off his arm and crossed his arms defensively. “You’re always runnin’ around like you’re the center of the damn universe, but you know what, you ain’t! So get over y’erself!” 

A long silence followed, Scout did not talk and neither did Engineer; the silence was uncomfortable, but not completely awkward, at least not until Scout choked back an odd sound and grinned. Engineer could not quite pick out the odd expression behind his smile, but he felt bad for hitting the kid so hard; he reached forward and gently touched the kid’s arm, an apologetic gesture that the other did not move away from. 

“I know I ain’t the center of the universe,” Scout mumbled, rubbing one of his arms. “I jus’ feel like no one likes hangin’ around me. Pyro and I get along well enough, and when he keeps goin’ off with Spy…” He turned away just a bit, just enough for Engie’s hand to fall away from him. “I feel like he’s jus’ tryin’ to get away from me. And then I feel like a douchebag. But then…but then I think everyone’s jus’ bein’ a douche to me and-!” 

“Scout,” Again Engie reached out and took the Bostonian by the arm, however this time he was considerably gentler and pulled the kid into a hug. Scout did not pull away, thought he flinched in the embrace, obviously unsure of how to react. “None of us think yer’ a douchebag, and we ain’t tryin’ to be douche bags to you either.” Engineer assured him calmly.

“But I-“ 

“Yer’ a little shit, of course, and you manage to git on everyone’s nerves, but you know…” The mechanic smiled warmly and held Scout by the shoulders in front of him, grey eyes looking reassuringly into royal blue ones. “We love ya for it…’kay.” He released the younger man, smirking at the pitiful smile the runner had on his face.

“Right,” Scout mumbled, shuffling back and then out of Engineer’s workshop without another word.

_._

Scout sighed dejectedly and slumped down further on the couch, not even paying attention to the television anymore; whatever game show re-run was on, it was not going to amuse him. Quiet thudding alerted him to someone approaching from the rear hallway, he quickly assumed it was Heavy on his way to the kitchen. 

But when he felt a small tap on his shoulder, he turned to see Pyro standing there holding his baseball bat and fumbling with a multitude of baseballs. The fire user seemed guilty as he shifted his arms and offered the baseball out to his friend.

Scout looked to the bat and then back at Pyro somewhat in a daze. Pyro lifted his right hand, after handing the bat over, and made a small circular motion over his chest with his fist.

_’Sorry…’_

Now he felt guilty, the runner grinned before jumping over the back of the couch and throwing an arm around the shorter mercenary’s shoulder, consequentially knocking every single baseball out of his arms. “I’m sorry Sparky, I shouldn’t have reacted like I did,” He chuckled, “Alright, let’s go play some ball bro.”


End file.
